Repercussions
by SymphonyC
Summary: The continuation of Hawke's tale after the game ends. F!Hawke/Fenris Isabela/Anders in later chapters. Rated M for language and violence. Posting chapters slowly in consideration of length.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

The Vengeful Prince

Sebastian Vael had been remade for the second time. He had never wanted the changes that were forced upon him. The first had been when his frustrated parents had pushed their rebellious and embarrassing son into the life of a Chantry Brother. The prince had fought and ranted against the quiet life in the Maker's service only to have it grant him the feeling of peace he'd never even imagined existed. The second, when that, that, _abomination_ had destroyed the peace he'd found.

With a snarl the prince of Starkhaven smashed his calloused hand into the piles of reports on his desk. The world was going up in fire and _he_, that _thing_, was to blame. Everywhere there was senseless death as the mages of Thedas rose in rebellion against the Chantry's Templars. Even in Fereldan, which had previously had the most successful circle, the power hungry magi had slaughtered their keepers and were burning their way across the land.

If it wasn't for the Hero of Ferelden all of the country would have been engulfed in their unholy flame, the former Circle Mage coupled with their new king were having the most luck in quieting the rebellion.

But in the Free Marshes, chaos reigned. For over a decade the mages had been subjected to atrocities that were still coming to the light and they were insane in their freedom from the templars. The loss of the Chantry had brought the wrath of Divine Justinia down on Kirkwall and the templar numbers had swelled to breaking as more and more flooded into the city to combat the mages.

Sebastian pushed most of the reports to the ground like the trash they were. He knew all of this. He knew that the Divine was marshalling her troops against the mage rebellion lead by that.. that _thing_. His own troops were pledged to Her cause and were readying even at this moment. He tossed himself back into a high backed chair and kneaded his forehead with a tired hand.

A polite knock on the door interrupted his reverie, startling him from his slumped position into readiness. "Enter."

The aged Seneschel entered, Sebastian vaguely recalled him from his younger years and the respectful face bore almost no resemblance to the scowling younger Lord that he was used to. The old man had been running the country for the various pretenders to the Vael throne during his absence and had welcomed the older, more responsible prince home with open arms; smoothing the ruffled feathers of the nobles and easing the transition into a ruler's life.

"Highness," There was a slight pause here, the man's distaste for Sebastian refusing the coronation ritual until the Mage's rebellion was over was a long standing argument, "There is a warship flying neutral colors that has entered the harbor. The, ahem, woman captaining it is quite insistent that she is a, _friend_."


	2. Chapter 2

Isabela laughed, the confident booming sound echoing across the dining hall. Even the bravest of the court's ladies hadn't lasted more than an hour against her and she had been the subject of many rude comments and envious looks at her bared thighs and offered breasts. His Lords had retired hours after, only when their attempts to win Isabela's favor had obviously failed.

".. And truly I've never seen Hawke look so out of place, standing there, ready for battle, surrounded by a bunch of prattling nobles trying to throw her a surprise party. If you ask me, that's what they get, for sending her an unsigned note saying the situation was 'dire'". She threw back her head and finished off her wine, throwing the metal cup across the hall to land at one of the servant's feet.

"Isabela…"

"What, now he doesn't have to come all the way over here to get it." She leaned back in her chair, bringing the front two legs up and propped her boots on the dining table. "So, Sebastian…"

A nervous rustling of feet from the servants behind him brought his attention away from her boots, "I do have a title now, Captain."

Her throaty laugh bounced across the room again, "I never called you _Brother_ Sebastian, why would I trip over 'Your Highness'?"

Sebastian sighed, the evening had worn on him, as all social events tended to. Anything that wasn't directly involved with finding Anders was a waste of time.

"So, anyhow, Sebastian," Isabela grinned, drawing his name out, "You've spent the entire evening pointedly not asking about Hawke."

Hawke. Her name alone seemed to carry power. The servants made soft movements behind him, suddenly restless hands hurrying to clear the table and brush imaginary dust from the furniture. Sebastian leaned forward to argue and found no words, and settle for pacing the room instead, his path taking him behind the reclined pirate. "Hawke?"

"You know, Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of Mage and Templar alike, Deep Roads Explorer, Wanted by the Chantry, Broody Elf Lover, Apostate…" Isabela paused, strictly for emphasis, "Renegade Mage Releaser." Her boots thunked against the ground and she was suddenly on her feet, facing him. "That Hawke."

"Ah. Hawke." The name cut off viciously on his tongue and he turned from Isabela, hiding the anger on his face under the façade of looking out into the courtyard. "What Lady Hawke does or does not do is no longer my concern."

"Did you know they tried to keep her as Viscountess? She warned them that it was a temporary agreement. She put Donnic in charge since Aveline turned it down."

Sebastian could hear her steps behind him, deliberately bringing her closer, watching him. The prince knew that the seemingly careless woman missed nothing, "She's no longer acting as Viscount?" That was news. He hadn't heard anything from Kirkwall from her hand other than generic official reports. The appointment of Knight Commander Cullen, the school for magi opening, a temporary structure, not required, free for all, run by the few survivors of the Tower ordeal that hadn't fled to join the forces of… _It. _the reminders of innocent lives that resided in Kirkwall; the assurances that the city itself was stable. He had sent demands that the fugitive mage be released into his custody but no response had ever come.

"She's not even IN the city Sebastian, how could she run it?" Isabela had circled around him and now stood blocking his view. She smirked in light of the grimace on his face, "I can hear your teeth grinding."

"Where did she go?" Sebastian tried to level his voice into one of casual inquiry, but from the gleam in Isabela's eyes he had failed.

"Oh, you know those heroic types, always wandering off to go save someone," Isabela's eyes caught his and he pointedly turned his gaze to her chest to avoid the exchange.

"Did you say something?" Sebastian forced his voice low, his gaze following.

"Naughty, naughty, Sebastian. Trying to play my game."

"What is the _Champion_ up to Isabela?" He caught a lock of her dark hair in his fingertips, still calloused from constant bow use.

"Why don't you just ask, 'Did she run off to join Anders?', it would save all sorts of time." Isabela jumped, a dagger he hadn't seen appearing in her hand as Sebastian's fist slammed into the wall beside her. The wood paneling buckled under the force and his knuckles were already smarting. The servants made hasty exits out of the room and he focused on calming himself. He slapped the dagger out of her surprised grasp and slammed her wrist against the wall for emphasis.

"Why do you taunt me with this? If you know where that _**abomination**_is you'd better tell me or Maker help me Isabela, I'll…."

"You'll do what, exactly?" The smooth voice stopped him faster than the voice of Andraste would have. He could have picked that voice out of a crowd of thousands or followed it blindly through the darkest of voids. He had trusted that voice, admired it, used it as an anchor as he fought against everything that he didn't understand and in his one moment of clarity, of absolute certainty, it had turned from the path of the righteous.

"Bollocks, I didn't even get to the point where I confront him on his secret longings for you," Isabela twisted out of his grip easily and sauntered away. Sebastian fought the desire to follow Isabela's trail, knowing it would lead to Hawke. He didn't want to see her. He didn't want to talk to her.

"He looked a little uneasy," her voice stroked the room like a finger on a wineglass. "And I can't maintain that shield forever."

"Nonsense, I have it on the very best authority that you can raise whole cities to float in the sky while slaying an entire legion of dragons!"

"Isabela…"

"Fine, fine, I'll go keep Fenris _company_ while you have a little chat with your prince."

"I am most certainly not _her_ prince!" Sebastian turned to confront her but as his gaze swept the room his eyes locked immediately on Hawke. The sound of the door clicking close echoed into the silence.

She looked nearly the same. He'd expected something else. Some sign that years had passed, some show of the person she _really_ was. Not the hero he'd always thought but, the _mage_, the _apostate_.

Hawke's white hair was a little longer, the locks brushing just past her shoulders. Her face bore the same calm, detached amusement he remembered, and small lines had begun to form at the corners of her bright turquoise eyes. Her attire was back to her adventurer's gear; practical, powerful, the lines and curves of runes of power barely registering on the edges of his vision. The right arm still encased in metal, ready to act as a shield in close combat. She carried the easy stance of well balanced fighter on her armored boots and…

And she bore no staff. The focus of her power was absent. Her hands rested uneasily at her sides, more obvious for their emptiness.

Sebastian was across the room in an instant, not even knowing what force had gotten him there. He felt her form give under the rush, taking the blow, rolling his weight off of her neck but he caught at her wrists as power started to grow in her hands and rolled an elbow into her stomach, the grunt of her released breath bringing a fierce joy to him. His elbow continued up to her face, dazing her, but her knee came up reflexively and caught him in the chest, the metal digging through his formal attire and bruising him.

He released her and they separated, and she caught the blood falling from her nose with the back of a hand.

"First blood is yours, Prince." Hawke didn't even bother to hide it, a brief white glow lit the room and the blood stopped. "How much more do you want?"

"How dare you come here! You.. You're a traitor! And an apostate!"

"You forgot thief and killer." Hawke absently wiped the blood from her hand onto the darkness of leggings.

"Where is he?" Sebastian paced furiously a strict ten paces from her; resisting the urge to move in again. Her weight had shifted and she was ready for him now.

"I didn't come here to talk about that."

"There is nothing else to talk about! You are harboring a murderer! A traitor against the Maker himself! You will give him to me Hawke!"

"Sebastian…" Hawke's voice was absent of anger, she sounded tired. Her eyes finally locked with his and his pacing stopped. He rounded on her, closing the distance once again but restraining himself from coming into contact with her.

"I will see you tranquil for what you've done! You will tell me _**everything**_ Hawke, Maker help me, _**You will tell me where HE is!**_"

Her eyes lit up with her unholy power and Sebastian knew he'd finally pushed past her calm. The curtains swirled restlessly in the room and the tall glass vases filled with flowers tinkled in an alarming song. The very stone began to groan under the stress of her anger and then, as suddenly as it had started, the light bled from her eyes and her hands relaxed at her sides.

"I wouldn't tell you, even if I knew." She closed her eyes and turned her gaze to the moon outside. "And we both know I'll be dead before I'm made tranquil."

"Yet you come here, unannounced, unarmed. You are not strong enough to beat me without your staff. I could end this here, _mage_." The word snarled off his tongue.

She returned her unerring turquoise gaze back to him, "You don't have your bow, Sebastian." Hawke tilted her head, measuring him, and took a slow step towards him. "And besides, I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Then you should not have come." He bit the words off, furious that he couldn't just snap her neck and be done with her.

"Something has come up. Something that is more dangerous than the Qunari, Orsino, and Meredith combined." Her gaze bore into him, and he felt that gaze wrap around his soul and fill him with the hope to make a better world and for a moment he was back in Kirkwall, years ago, when he was convinced that there was a better way. Sebastian snapped viciously back from it, snarling at her and turned away.

The prince stalked to the far end of the room, heard her steps behind him, resolute now, determined that he would hear her out. His hand wrapped around the handle to yank the door open and hers landed lightly on top of it.

"Sebastian, please, listen to me first and if-"

"You should not have come here, Hawke." And he smashed the back of his fist into her head, the careful blow felling her instantly. He caught her weight before she hit the floor and gently moved the hair off of her face. "I will have my vengeance."


	3. Chapter 3

Even the brave scream eventually.

Sebastian paced the inside of the Tous' chambers while waiting on the man who ran the Towers, Starkhaven's prison and Templar base both. Knight Commander Tous still looked to the Chantry in most regards but no longer would take every command of the Grand Cleric. He and the prince both knew that there was no saving the mages of Thedas now. The Maker had turned his back on these sinners after they had proven themselves unworthy of even the chance of redemption.

The moment the door opened the sounds of the Towers filtered in, hoarse screams, sobbing, whimpering and the cracks of the whips of the guards. The varied cursing and threats of the men tasked with keeping the dredges of society locked away rising above the prisoners' cries.

"Your Highness," Tous paused long enough to issue a quick bow towards the Prince. "I assume you are here about the.. apostate."

"You were always one to get to the point, Tous. Efficient, as always. How does she fare?"

"Alive, highness. Hasn't told us anything though. Stubborn bitch."

Sebastian breathed out the sudden flare of ire that rose in him, "Nothing at all?"

"Won't even tell us her favorite color," Tous grunted, his own annoyance at being impressed by a mage's tolerance obvious.

"I'd like to speak to her," Sebastian decided. He hadn't been sure.

"You should just order the rite of Tranquility. It'd be much faster."

"I am not going to turn the Champion of Kirkwall into a tranquil mage if there is another option. The mages are difficult enough with their hero, they don't need a martyr. If she can be shown back to the path of righteousness she'd prove to be a powerful ally." The words tasted bitter even in his own mouth.

Tous grunted again, clearly disagreeing, "This way, highness."

She was housed far in the bowels of the Towers. Water from the marshes surrounding the complex dripped in slowly here and the noises of the more active floors subsided to a creaking background. The prince's white enameled armor was even more out of place in the nearly dark hallways and the light reflected back from him cast hard shadows on his face.

Tous stopped before nearly the last door down a narrow corridor; the single wall torch next to it showing the templar guarding it coming to strict attention. At the Knight Commander's nod, the door was unlocked and Sebastian entered the dark, rank smelling room, followed by the guard carrying the torch.

Hawke was slumped against the dirty back wall, apparently asleep or unconscious. Her normally gleaming white hair was crusted with blood and worse, casting it into a dead looking gray. She had been dressed in the standard garb of a prisoner, the rough, dirt brown fabric of the shift she wore was filthy and was also darkly spotted with things best not thought of. Without her normal armor hiding most of her skin the compliment of scars she'd gained over the last decade were loud; cruel raised marks barely lighter than her already pale complexion crisscrossed her bare arms. Her knees were scabbed over and dried blood was splattered across her lower legs, probably her own for once.

She raised her head slowly from her arms, even that small movement halting with pain. A single turquoise eye peered out from the untidy mass of hair that had fallen into her face.

"Sebastian," her voice was broken and dry; nothing like the jesting tone she normally used or the confident voice of a leader that was her second favorite.

Her head fell back to rest against the wall, the small thud giving away that she had simply let it fall back as soon as was possible and Sebastian grimaced at the dark rough Tevinter collar that choked her magic.

"What do you want, prince." Her voice whispered out and her eyes closed.

"Hawke…" Sebastian shook his head slightly, willing the feeling of disgust at her state away, steeling himself. He crossed the few paces to her and looked down at her suddenly slight seeming form. "This is not necessary. You can end this. "

Hawke's eyes opened slowly, a swirling of something that might have been humor once bringing them to life for just a moment. "I did not start this." Her bitter words clipped off, all the more brutal for her ruined voice.

Sebastian reached down and gently pulled her to her feet. When it was evident she could not support her own weight he shifted her to settle leaning against the wall. There was a nasty bruise across the side of her face and blood splattered down from her nose and mouth. One bright eye was slightly swollen, and he grimaced realizing that the bruise was older than the rest and probably from his own fist.

"Hawke, please. Tell me where he is." Sebastian tried to soften both his gaze and his grip on her and as his hands gentled she recoiled from him, fighting to support herself and pull away. The prince saw his advantage and pressed it, a hand coming up to gently turn her face back to him. "Nothing has to be this way."

Hawke's body relaxed into him, his quick archer's reflexes reacting and taking her weight as her head came forward too quickly and smacked into his armor earning a grimace of pain from her. For just a brief moment his arms wrapped around her and he felt the give of her skin underneath the rough fabric.

"Please Hawke, let me end this," he murmured into her filthy hair, "You can return to Kirkwall, to the people you have defended for so long, and we can forge an alliance that can provide mercy for everyone."

Her silence was the only answer and he felt her defeat in the slackness of her shoulders and with a deep rattling breath she pushed herself away from him.

"I do not know where he is Sebastian. I haven't seen him or heard from him since… since…" her voice trailed off and she wrapped her bruised arms around herself. Fresh blood seeped up from the cuts of restraints on her wrists and trailed through the dirt coating her arms.

The prince moved to her again and pulled her form back into his, gently stroking her hair, hating himself for what he was doing. Once she had relaxed into his arms again he continued, "He would come, if you sent for him."

Hawke went very still, even her breath stopping. He felt her consideration and her instant shame for having it and he pressed her more; one hand gently stroking her back and the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. "Call for him Hawke. Return home and send word that you want to speak to him. Help me bring peace back to Thedas. Please Hawke. So many have already suffered, already died. You can stop all of that."

Hawke wrapped a tentative arm around his waist and he muffled his surprise barely in time. She used her failing strength to embrace him weakly and her choked sobs were muffled by her face pressed into his enameled armor and he cursed the metal between them. "Oh Sebastian…" Her voice whispered out.

He tilted her face up from his chest, holding her chin delicately, hating his actions and loving the feel of her so close, her heat beginning to push through the chain mail and padding both, "Please Hawke, _please_, I want this to end."

"I'm sorry Sebastian. I…"

"Shhhhh Hawke, it will all be okay." He felt her push away from him and he slowly released her as she regained her balance.

"No, no, it won't. " Her head drooped wearily and she turned her tear bright eyes back to him, "I'm sorry that you thought you could use me like this. All of this," she gestured down to herself, "I could forgive, even understand but that…" Her eyes hardened, the remnants of tears only showing their crystalline gaze more. "Do as you must Sebastian, I will not help you."


	4. Chapter 4

Three days had passed since word had gone out that Knight Commander Tous of Starkhaven would be performing the Rite of Tranquility on Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. Tous had pushed for an immediate Rite but Sebastian knew that such an event would require witnesses that couldn't be produced that quickly.

The prince paced his quarters grimly. He had been entertaining nobles and hearing petitions since the announcement had been made and he worried that no word of Isabela or Fenris' activities had been noted by any of his guard. The Rite was only a few scarce hours away. Patrols around the Tower had been tripled in response to the growing number of raids by various groups, rumor even had the abomination himself sighted near the city.

Hawke hadn't been left alone since the announcement and they moved her constantly, never giving her clever friends a chance to plan her rescue. He had long sent away his servants and advisors along with their constant help and suggestions. He paced around the room again, anxious for the waiting to be over, and began the process of armoring himself in more than just metal.

"Blessed are they who stand before, The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." Sebastian's mouth turned down at the mention of justice, the bitter tie to the abomination that had began all of this as he slid his silvered chain mail over his head.

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow." The prince slowly began to buckle on the layers of white enameled metal that had been his last gift from his father.

"In their blood the Maker's will is written." He pulled on the heavy layers that comprised his own armored boots.

"The one who repents, who has faith." Sebastian pulled on one of the long leather gauntlet that covered his pull hand.

"Unshaken by the darkness of the world," He placed his left hand down into the other open and waiting gauntlet and began the processes of buckling it into place.

"Shall know true peace."

The heavy rapping on his door interrupted his prayers. Sebastian crossed the room in quick strides and opened the door himself to find a group of Templars escorting Hawke.

"Pardon.. your highness." The startled templar began, "You wanted to see the maleficar before the rite?" The poor man let the question dangle, even began to tug Hawke away.

"No, you're right. Bring her in and leave us."

"But highness.. is that wise?"

"I want to talk to her before the Rite."

The templar brought in a roughly cleaned up Hawke. The bruises had diminished down to a pale purple and yellow and there was no evident blood on her. Even the worst of the filth had been slicked off and her hair was knotted with dampness. Her brilliant eyes locked onto the prince, smoldering with barely checked anger. A swift kick to the back of her legs brought her to her knees before him and while she remained on the floor, her anger pushed through the façade of meekness.

"Anything else then Sire?"

"No. Leave us please." The prince didn't even notice their exit, the door shutting with barely a sound. Sebastian was regretting this decision already. He had thought that one of the traitors brought to their knees before him would bring a sense of fulfillment; a sign that his duty to the Maker was finally progressing. However he felt no pride in seeing his former friend bound and kneeling at his feet, her eyes snapping in anger directed at him.

"So, this is it then." Her voice cracked into the silence.

"You aren't being executed Hawke.."

"I may as well be. Nothing will be left of what I was once you and your _Templars_ are finished." She sat down on her heels, awkward with her hands bound behind her and tossed her head to clear the hair from her eyes.

"Help me then, please, you can still stop—"

"No, Sebastian. You will not push this off on me. This is your decision and I will not alleviate you of your guilt. "

"My guilt? Mine! I am not the one who allowed Elthina's murderer to walk free! I am not the one turned my back on the faithful that died that day! I am not the one harboring the mage-" Sebastian yanked Hawke to her feet and shook her a few times in his anger.

"I don't know where Anders is you stupid, thick skulled—"

"Why will you not aid me? Why is his life more important to you than the innocents that died that day, than our friendship, after what he did? Why, Hawke? I would have done anything for you. I would have followed you anywhere. If it had been you in that Chantry no force here or in the Void would have kept me from my revenge. I trusted you to do the right thing, to defend the Faith. You even agree that a Circle is necessary. Why won't you help me?" He pleaded with her, his hands loosening from their bruising grip, frustration and anger bleeding through his voice and his eyes searching her face for his answers.

"Sebastian… I—" Her voice breathed out, tears forming in her eyes, and she was suddenly ripped from his grasp. Coughing, he stumbled back, trying to move away from the shape he barely saw whispering through the smoke. Sebastian was clipped in the shoulder by a blow that was meant for his neck, the force still enough to send him crashing into a set of chairs.

"_Ei vento nai mordoi deid," _The harsh words were growled out of the smoke that filled the room. The room was eerily dark through his tear stained vision as he blinked the acrid smoke out of his eyes.

"Fenris?" Sebastian coughed out the name of the white haired elf.

"I do not want to kill you, Sebastian," Fenris repeated, "but if you ever touch her again, I will." As the smoke began to filter out of the room the prince made out the hazy form of Fenris bending to pick up Hawke, of her arms wrapping around his neck. He staggered back as a leather clad knee connected with his head.

"That's for acting like a little shit," Isabela backhanded him and he felt the leather of her gloves embed into his check, "And that's because I might just feel bad about killing you in the morning."

"Don't…" Hawke's voice cut through her tirade. "Don't kill him, Isabela."

"What? Why not?" Isabela's pout was obvious even in the still murky room. "Andraste's balls, she's passed out! Come on, let's get out of here."

"Yes, we dare not linger." Fenris disappeared on silent bare feet out of the destroyed door, Isabela on his heels.

Sebastian pulled himself to his feet, out of breath and with blood dripping from both his nose and split lip. He tried to pursue after them but was nearly knocked down again by the arrival of the templars and his personal guard. He swore and recovered himself, snarling at the closest guard.

"Highness, are you alright?"

"What happened?" Tous demanded, pushing his way through the crowd.

"You're bleeding!" A noblewoman squeaked and promptly pushed a scented and heavily embroidered cloth against his face. Sebastian ripped it off and tossed it to the ground accompanied by the distraught squeak of the lady.

"Maker damn them all! Seize Isabela's ship in the harbor, do it now!" Sebastian slammed the remnants of his door in and grabbed his bow and the ever ready quiver of arrows next to it. "We move, now!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Two**

The Refugee Pirate

Isabela fiddled with the point of her dagger only to sheath it and pace the room for what seemed the millionth time. They needed to move. The prince with his guard in tow had already swept towards the harbor and seized _her_ ship as they had expected while the three of them hid in this dirty abandoned shack barely off palace grounds. Soon the prince would conduct a more orderly and thorough sweep of the area and they would be discovered.

She paced restlessly to the door, then back again, debating on whether or not to intrude.

She hesitated at the crumbling door that separated the tiny living area from the even tinier bedroom. Through the rot of the wood she could see Fenris' head bent over the still prone form Hawke, his hands touching her face carefully. He was whispering something to her in Tevinter, the harsh consonants rolling through the still room. Something inside of her jumped for a moment and she quickly shoved it down.

"Bollocks." She pounded on the door, dusty wood fragments raining down, "Come on lovebirds, we need to get out of here!"

"She is unable to travel." Fenris' rough honey voice responded.

"Able or not we're going to be found here and without Hawke I don't care much for the idea of taking on the entire palace guard."

"You have an escape route prepared?"

"Do I have an escape… Shit Fenris, I have four. What a ridiculous question!" Isabela huffed at him and peered out into the rapidly darkening sky. "They're disorganized now but they won't stay that way for long."

"Where are we bound?" Fenris carefully placed Hawke's form on a crude blanket and began to wrap her in it's questionable protection. Isabela had never remembered the woman looking so vulnerable.

"They'll be expecting us to head north to the river and my ship or south back to Kirkwall, so we'll head east instead, cross the river nearer to Ansburg and head into Antiva."

"Let us be done with this place then," Fenris wrapped his arms around Hawke's battered body and stood, pulling her close to him. Isabela's eyes fixed on the ugly rough iron collar around her neck.

"Can we get rid of that bloody thing?"

Fenris glanced down at his lover's throat, a snarl of anger passing over him, "Any person can place them, but it takes blood magic to remove it."

"Right. Merrill then." Isabela decided.

"You would turn Hawke's fate to the hands of that blood mage?" Fenris snarled.

"Do you know any others that aren't already all 'Grr, Argh!'? She left Kirkwall and headed along the coast, with any luck we'll find word of her on our way."

"You make a fine point."

The two whispered out of the rank shack, Fenris bearing Hawke's weight without difficulty. Dusk was approaching quickly but there was still enough light that the streets were clear of lamps. Isabela ghosted on silent feet just ahead of her friends, watching for guards. Thankfully in the hovels that hid behind the Chantry grounds and the Towers everyone knew to be looking somewhere else when trouble came through.

She stopped briefly to speak to a few gaunt looking children playing in the last of the light at the very edge of the market courtyards, close to the palace gardens. After slipping them a few silvers she motioned for Fenris to join her wading through the drainage from the palace itself.

They treaded quickly through the water, the noise of the city masking the soft splashes, moving for a sewer entrance they could navigate an unconscious Hawke through, and finally arrived at a large grate just under the wall from the palace grounds themselves. Isabela easily picked the rusted locks on the grate's entrance and let loose a piercing whistle.

"What do you think you are doing?" Fenris hissed at her.

"Just watch," Isabela grinned at him. At her whistle the boys she had spoken with earlier conveniently ran their game into a detachment of guards. During the resulting cursing and catcalls she yanked the rusted grating open and hurried him through, the squeal of the unused hinges hidden in the chaos the children had caused.

"Clever, very clever." Fenris gifted her with a small smile of admiration.

"At that and so much more," Isabela grinned and bowed grandly as they disappeared into the nearly dark tunnel.


	6. Chapter 6

Isabela ducked the clumsy fist of the lucky bounty hunters that had stumbled across them. The five men that had wandered loudly into their path were poorly clothed and disorganized, making this little more than a nuisance for them. She brought a swift knee into the dirty man's stomach and back into his face, watching him fold over in pain and then neatly nipped behind him and slit his throat in a clean motion.

Fenris swung his ridiculously large sword around with the ease of a small child playing with a stick, cleaving one of the offending men in the side, the wet sound of his ribs shattering echoed through the river valley. His backswing brought the weapon down precisely onto the neck of the third and Isabela took a moment to admire the elf in action.

A sloppy sloshing sound brought her back from her reverie and she whirled, her long daggers glinting in the sunlight, the water catching the afternoon sun. One of the two remaining men, a hulking ape of a man missing most of his teeth, bore directly down on her. She twirled one dagger lazily and braced herself for the leap that would bring her blade down into his wide shoulder, severing the tendons and biting into the artery. Her muscles sang with the adrenaline pumping through her veins and she grinned wildly at the attacker only to have the man stare blindly at her and grope hopelessly at his back.

Hawke stepped around the falling bulk of the man, twisting a dagger into his spine with a vicious snarl on her normally lovely face. As he fell she planted a foot on his back and yanked the weapon free of bone, breaking the suction of muscle on the blade, just as Isabela had shown her.

"Not bad sweetheart, we'll make an honest fighter of you yet!" Isabela winked at her friend, rewarded with a brilliant smile of fierce joy. She twirled her dagger once more in her right hand for emphasis and threw the weapon cleanly across the riverbed, watching with satisfaction as the blade bit deep into the neck of the sole survivor, felling him instantly.

"Is that it then?" Hawke looked around, her bloody dagger hanging loosely from her hand.

"Seems to be. They weren't organized enough to be a real threat." Isabela picked her way across the rocks and pulled her dagger easily from the neck of the still dying man.

Nearly a week had passed since the Isabela and Fenris had fled from Starkhaven, the prone Hawke with them. They had ghosted through the wilderness staying near the river, coming into towns only long enough to resupply and hear news before moving on, never staying near civilization for more than a few hours.

"We should find shelter for the night and make sure there aren't more nearby." Fenris sent his blade through the arc of a cleaning swipe, the blood running off it to scatter on the rocks.

The three of them found rude shelter not an hour later, a small cleft of rock too narrow to be called a cave and they packed themselves in; their gear piled behind them in the spaces too small for a person. They'd picked up clothes for Hawke as they moved through the various villages and farms, and she wore a pair of ill fitting leather breeches and a loose shirt of linen that had once been white. Boots had been impossible to find that wouldn't rub her feet raw so she was wearing through a thin pair of farmer's slippers. Her white hair had been scrubbed in the river a few times and other than needing a good brushing was back to its shoulder length white waves.

They'd pushed hard this past week, even in Hawke's decreased state, making their way across most of the country towards Antiva, and Isabela was privately glad that the elf had proposed camping early. Hawke slumped on Fenris' shoulder near their packs, and he ran a lock of her hair through his calloused fingers, his lips speaking to her too softly for Isabela to make out but it earned a small smile from the tired woman.

They'd come across two clans of the Dalish but none could aid them in the removal of Hawke's collar and she had taken to wrapping the chaffing metal in a piece of stained red cloth. Isabela frowned as she watched Fenris' gaze sweep over her face and stiffen as it passed her neck and down to her tired shoulders, his long bangs hiding his eyes.

The sliding of rocks near their location had Isabela instantly alert, her balance shifting forward and her daggers flickering into her hands. She motioned Fenris back and eased forward on soundless feet.

The pirate slinked around the jagged boulders cast down like broken teeth near the water's edge, cursing the overhead sun. Her ears searching through the sound of rushing water for footsteps, she skittered around from flimsy shadow to shadow, eyes darting from moving leaf to sparkling water scanning for movement.

"Ello? Is anybody out there?" A high voice called out.

"Marker's sake Daisy, you could _try_ to be quiet," was the gravelly response.

"I don't see what the point is really Varic, we stick out like a sore thumb with a bee sting."

Isabela sighed a hearty sigh of relief and stepped out from the narrow cropping of boulders she'd been concealed in, "Shit and balls you two, you got my messages then."

"Isabela! You're looking well. I'm so glad," Merrill peered up at her with her wild forest eyes, balancing herself on her bare feet on the sun warmed stones. Her raven dark hair was cut short and shone softly in the bright sunlight.

"Rivaini, you're taking an awful risk spreading messages that a shared lover is looking for her run away bird carrying bruised apples. And you left some friends behind a little ways back, they're fouling up the water." Varric slung Bianca over his shoulder and pulled Isabela into a rough embrace, his face dark with a couple of days worth of stubble.

"I'm a pirate, not a poet," Isabela cocked her hip and watched them both, "About Hawke."

"Is she alright? I heard about that awful nonsense with Sebastian, what a shame!" Merrill shook her head sadly.

"Yeah, you can still hear the screams of our choir boy breaking the furniture from anywhere in Starkhaven. Poor boy's gone off the deep end." Varric nodded once to Isabela, "Sweet little rescue there though, would love to hear about it."

"Yes, about that, Sebastian did this thing to her.." Isabela began.

"Rivaini, this is hardly the time to hear that story! Later, for sure, but .." Varric interrupted.

"Shit, no, dwarf, he put this thing around her neck that keeps her from doing the glowy hand death and destruction thing!" Isabela puffed out at him.

"A tevinter collar?" Varric raised an eyebrow.

"That's it! Anyhow, broody says the only way to get it off is with a little of Merrill's.. er.. uh.. you know," Isabela trailed off and looked at Merrill.

"My blood magic you mean?" Merrill questioned quietly.

"Yes, so, anyhow, if you could just follow me and get that thing off, we'll all be on our way to Antiva," Isabela hauled off

"Are we really headed to Antiva? I've always wanted to go there, you hear such stories.. not that the People go into the city much but still," Merrill prattled on.

Isabela led them to the small cave, motioning Fenris down when she walked in. Hawke stood behind him, a dagger in her reversed grip along her forearm, seeing Varic and Merrill she pushed past Fenris and gathered them both in a long embrace.

"Maker it's good to see you two," she breathed out, a trace of her usual voice emerging.

"Oh Hawke, I'm so sorry about what happened in Starkhaven. I never would have thought Sebastian would go so far." Merrill babbled, tears forming in her eyes.

"Really Hawke you and your heroic sacrifice are going to get you killed. See what happens when you wander off without me?" Varric grinned at the woman.

"Yes, well, I'll just have to remember not to make the mistake of wandering off without my trusty dwarf next time!" Hawke's easy grin was coming back more and more at the family banter.

"Now let's just see about this horrible, horrible thing.." Merrill peered at the collar in the dim light, "Oh, I see, it's simple really, you just…"

Isabela watched Hawke's face as Merrill pricked the tiniest drop of blood on her thumb, seeing the pain for the elf in the woman's eyes. Varric was busily not looking at Merrill and Fenris glowered at her from beneath his bangs, tense and ready to spring.

A moment of brilliant light and a whisper of dark skittering voices later and the hated thing clinked to the floor. Hawke let out a choked breath of relief and instantly Isabela had to shield her eyes as the small area flooded with brilliant white-blue light that was quickly pulled back.

"Thank you, Merrill. I hated to have you do that.." Hawke began, pulling Merrill close for an embrace.

The small elf blushed a rosy color, "Oh, it was nothing, really, Hawke. Easy as knocking stones off a log."

Fenris moved behind Hawke and ran the back of an armored finger lightly down her neck, "That.. is better."

"Right. So if the sunny reunion and hugging is all finished now…" Isabela cleared her throat.

"Blighted river is crawling with patrols, Sebastian's and bounty hunters alike." Varric drawled out.

"It doesn't matter, we need to move. We won't have to be as cautious.. now," Hawke straightened and began to collect her gear, settling easily back into command now that her magic had been restored. Isabela breathed out quietly, glad to be rid of the burden of command. "We'll strike across the river just at dusk and move into the woods west of Bastion."

Hawke peered out into the warm late afternoon light, "How do things look out there Varric?"

The dwarf cleared his throat, "Heavy, but nothing we can't avoid with a little work. Almost all cities are off limits unless you planned on running on the way to Qarinus. Antiva won't be too bad though, we can bribe our way through if you've got access to the coin."

Isabela grinned at them, "Shit, Varric, no one is going to be willing to touch Hawke's estate and risk Sebastian's wrath right now. We should be much more worried about the Crows if we head north though. I doubt they'll ignore that we slaughtered that bunch of them that came to Kirkwall."

Hawke grimaced, "I'd forgotten about that."

"What? How could you forget that? Zevran is very .. enthusiastic."

"I wouldn't know, Isabela," Hawke raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"Oh, that's right, you wouldn't come with us. I'd nearly forgotten that was just pleasant daydreaming."

"Isabela!" Hawke feigned an insulted look at her but she laughed it off.

"What? You shouldn't have been such a prude. It would have been sooo much fun," Isabela issued an overly dramatic pout and thrust her breasts out at her, the scene replaying as it had a hundred times during their times together.

"We need to work on your look, Hawke, you don't exactly scream 'Champion' in those peasant rags," Varric picked up some of the packs on the ground along with his own.

"Yes, well, you can go back to Starkhaven for me and ask Sebastian for my gear back." Hawke rolled her eyes at the dwarf and moved out, lighter on her feet than she had been since their escape.

"Me? No. No one respects a dwarf without a beard anymore. They'd throw me out as a laughing stock!"

"Don't worry your pretty head about it Hawke, I'm sure we'll run along some bloody crazy apostate along the way and when we kill them you'll get their stuff!" She and Fenris picked up the last of their gear and followed her out into the warm afternoon. For the first time since Hawke had returned from her visit to Sebastian, Isabela felt as if they'd finally escaped.


	7. Chapter 7

They'd skirted through the wilderness close to the seacoast for the past few days, making better time as Hawke was able to heal both herself and others of some of the weariness of travel. Isabela loved travelling this close to the sea, the salt flavoring the wind and making the air more solid than the insubstantial nothingness of the inlands.

The larger group had set up a late camp a few hours from Rialto, the cities coming closer together as they neared Antiva City itself. Their current camp was high on one of the outlying hills near the sea herself, the view astounding as the moon rose over the soundlessly crashing waves in the distance. There was a refreshing lack of bounty hunters and bandits alike in Antiva, the Crow's hold being so strong on nobleman and criminal alike and Isabela took the precious moment of safety they had found here to enjoy the call of the ocean again.

Merrill had banked their fire well back into the trees but the pirate could just make out it's winking light from her vantage point out on the open hillside. She sighed and settled back into the long grass and gazed out at the ocean.

"Do you miss her Isabela?" Hawke's soft voice was back to normal, its smoothness sliding through the darkness.

"Which her would that be?" was her lewd reply.

"That her," Hawke asserted, thrusting her chin towards the sea beyond, "Your true love."

"I do, she's like no other lover." Isabella sighed out and plucked an unoffending blade of grass from the hill. The silence wrapped around them in a cool comfort, free of the fears they'd been travelling with for so long. She felt more than saw Hawke settle on the grass beside her, and then glimpsed her hair glowing in the moonlight, "Although, if you'd like to give her a run for her money…"

Hawke's laugh split the night and she turned her warm gaze to the pirate, "I don't think I'd ever measure up."

"I don't know, I could always ask Fenris what he thinks," Isabella grinned, still gazing at the sea beyond.

"And when he guts you for it I'm not going to help you in the slightest," came Hawke's easy reply. Her smile faded to a slight frown, "Thank you, for coming for me."

"Don't mention it."

"No, really, Isabela…"

"_Really,_ don't mention it. I'm horribly uncomfortable with these suicidal heroic rescues."

Hawke's muffled laughter reached her ear and the woman who had come to be Isabela's only friend wrapped her warm hand over hers, saving the nearly unrecognizable blade of grass in the process. Isabela laced her fingers through her friend's, still watching the rise and fall of the ocean's waves.

"I've never had a friend like you, one that I could really depend on. You've always stood by me, even when I was being a selfish prig," the words came out awkward and quickly, and she surprised herself voicing them, "I wouldn't have left you in there for all the gold on the seas."

"And I'd even rescue you from hundreds of angry Qunari in single combat," Hawke's light hearted reply came, "That's what friends do anyhow."

"Yes, well," Isabela cleared her throat, "You, friend, owe me a ship."

"I'll see if I can't dig one up for you."

She chuckled, standing and helping Hawke to her feet, as she inhaled to respond to her friend a slight crack from the woods around them alerted her, Hawke's head whipped around seeking the noise as well.

Isabela moved forward quickly, Hawke taking her flank and moving off of the exposed hillside and into the cover of the woods. Seeing the mage move into the darkness towards where the sound had come from, she angled into camp, a sharp head nod all that was needed to put her friends on alert. Varric continued his tale even as he readied Bianca and she motioned Fenris after Hawke with a single quick gesture in the direction the woman had gone.

She leaned down and woke Merrill with a gently placed finger on her lips and the elf's eyes snapped open, instantly on the alert. The three of them began to ease away from the contained light of their camp just as a terrific crashing came from where Hawke and Fenris had vanished.

Hawke came storming into the camp, her magic snapping around her in barely controlled fury and with an angry gesture guided the figure behind her into the light. The cheery light from the fire winked on the tall figure's hair and drew gold from the dirty blonde locks and cast the stubble on his chin into a dark shadow.

"A—Anders?" Merrill's startled voice cut through the thick silence.

Fenris pushed into camp behind them, his face contorted with rage and Hawke moved closer to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, which he shook off angrily.

"Well call me Andraste's knickers, where did you crawl up from Blondie?" Varric eased Bianca onto his shoulder.

"I've been searching for Hawke since I heard about Sebastian's attempt to make her Tranquil," Anders replied.

"That was a foolish move, he was expecting that," Hawke cut back at him, still standing close to Fenris.

"We—I wasn't about to let him get away with that!" Anders turned to confront her, his words rushed and angry.

"What would you have done? Blown up another building full of innocent people?" Fenris spat the words at him and was rewarded by watching Anders flinch.

"That was necessary. You see what's come of it, the mages everywhere are fighting for their fre—"

"Oh shut up Anders. You've brought civilization practically to its knees with your causes," Hawke cut him off. "Hundreds of people died that day, good people, people who didn't want a damn thing to do with your blighted revolution."

Isabela watched Anders turn to face the woman who had spared him, and wondered if she had imagined the pain in his eyes. The apostate measured the closeness she kept to Fenris and the stiffness of her posture and seemed to wilt.

"So.. Anders.. how are things going? Find a nice little revolution driven apostate to curl up with yet?" Isabela drawled out, sidling over to the man's side. She was unsure how stable Fenris or Hawke were after the events of the past few weeks. Hawke hadn't spoken of what had happened to her in the Towers and none of them had asked.

"What? No. Of course not. Anyone I come into contact with is in danger. I couldn't.." Anders stammered.

"Yes. Tell us about the dangers of being your friend, _mage_," Fenris snarled at him, "Tell us about how someone we trusted would chain us, torture us, spend days trying to break us! Tell us all about it."

"Fenris, that's enough," Hawke's hard tone snapped through the elf's tirade but she laid a soft hand on his arm. Isabela watched, amused, as the elf turned from her and stormed off into the darkness of the woods, Hawke following.

"Maker, did all of that really..?" Anders let the question hang in the air.

"No, of course not, I'm sure they were just having tea for days inside the Towers!" Isabela leaned back and quirked a sarcastic smile at him.

"I tried to come for her. I wouldn't have let them—"

"Oh lay off it already Blondie. She's out and we're moving on," Varric interrupted.

Anders crumpled onto the ground at her feet, shaking, "She should have come with me, I would have been able to keep her safe. Why did she even go see him?"

Isabela knelt down beside him, "You know that wasn't going to happen. She's still mad as a wet bull at you."

"I changed the world," the words came out as a hoarse whisper, "It comes at a price."

"But you're not the one paying that price dumpling, everyone else is," She motioned off into the darkness that Hawke had disappeared in, "She was in horrible shape when we found her."

"Why aren't you angry with me?" Anders turned his face up to hers.

"Oh, I am, sweetling, I just never let things like that get in my way." Isabela patted him awkwardly on his shoulder.

"What happened in Starkhaven?" Anders leaned back to rest on the damp ground, collecting his robes around himself to ward off the chill.

Isabela sat down next to him, angling her back to the warmth of the fire, "She wanted to see our choir boy about this quest of hers she's on again. Something about that damned relic they found in the deep roads. Grey Wardens showed up again to collect Carver, guess she figures this is the next step in keeping her brother safe."

"I never should have picked up the damned thing," Varric added.

"Anyhow, we snuck her in to see him and they started their old cat fight about the Chantry again. Next thing I know we hear she's been dragged off to the Towers."

"The way I heard it was that Sebastian himself carried her there in his arms, and she was wearing a dress as pristinely white as her hair!" Varric grinned.

"Can you even imagine Hawke _owning_ something like that dwarf?" Isabela stared at him.

"I think she would look lovely in a gown, she doesn't take any pride in her appearance, she really ought to.." Merrill began.

"After that we heard about the Rite and started working on getting her out of there. Sebastian is a clever bastard though." Isabela plucked a dagger from her boot and began making doodles in the dirt with it.

"I know all of that, I meant, what happened to Hawke?" Anders cut through her retelling.

"Nothing I can't handle," Hawke's voice swam through the darkness, emerging before the woman herself did, Fenris shadowing her.

"See? She's fine," Isabela patted Anders on the back awkwardly and stood, brushing the dirt from herself. She sheathed her dagger back in her boot and offered a hand to the tired mage on the ground. Anders grunted and took it, his warm hand engulfing hers. She let her hand linger slightly, giving him a warm smile that summed up her desire to put the uncomfortable topic behind them and move on to more pleasant things. She gave him her best crooked grin and cocked her hip at him, "Come on Blondie, you can bunk with me tonight."

"Do you really think that's wise…?" Anders began.

"Oh shove off Anders, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

"He is _not_ staying here!" Fenris was livid, the words snarling out of him. Hawke leaned into him, catching his arm again, the contact setting the magic embedded into him glowing.

"We'll deal with this in the morning. No point in tackling this tired," Hawke soothed.

"No! That monster shouldn't even be alive! We should take his head back to Sebastian!" Fenris continued to pull forward but was clearly unwilling to drag Hawke with him.

"Fenris!" Hawke's sharp hurt tone turned the elf's face towards the woman.

"Come on now elf, if we started abandoning our own for every fault we'd all be dead in a ditch by now." Varric leaned Bianca across his knee for emphasis.

"Well isn't this a pile of darkspawn shit. What do you want to do Fenris? Lock us all up until we agree to do what you want? Sound familiar? Hmm?" Isabela crossed her arms beneath her breasts and eyed the shaking man, "Anders can spend the night with me, and if you want to discuss that you are certainly welcome to… join us."

She sauntered slowly over towards the elf, her hips swaying deliberately and tried to not toss a grin at Hawke rolling her eyes. She ran her eyes down his form slowly and then back up again, grinning the whole while, "Well, elf?"

Fenris snorted at her and shook his head, "I will make my camp elsewhere then and return tomorrow." He tugged at Hawke's light hold on his elbow.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's safer for all of us to stay here," Hawke squirmed her way between them, forcing Fenris to look at her, "Come to bed with me. We've all had enough."

Isabela grinned over Hawke's shoulder at him and winked. He threw his hands up and surrendered, turning his back to them and storming into his tent. Her friend sighed audibly and her shoulders dropped, her hand with its wrist still raw coming up to rub at her temples.

"Maker I thought I was done with this," Hawke's soft voice said to the night.

"Hey, you alright? Want me to stab one of them for you?" Isabela placed a concerned hand on the back of the one person in the world she considered a friend, seeing for the first time the weight that she carried on her shoulders, the problems of the world all coming to rest on her because no one else would pick them up.

"Heavens no, I'd just have to hear them complain about it hurting," Hawke's tone was light but the set of her shoulders hadn't changed.

"Go to bed love, all of this can wait til tomorrow. And both you and Fenris could use a little.._cheering up_." Isabela pushed her forward with a playful shove, "I'm going to go see if Anders still remembers that little bit with the electricity…"

"Isabela!"

"What?" She grinned.

Hawke shook her head, laughing, "I give up! I do!" Her friend disappeared into the tent she shared with Fenris. Isabela heard a few moments of hushed conversation and then nothing and smiled and headed back for her own tent.

"You turning in then pirate?"

"You could call it that, yes…" She grinned again at both Varric and Anders, Merrill turning a pleasant shade of pink.

"Want me to take this watch then?"

"Ahh.. not necessary. I won't be _sleeping," _She grinned at him.

Varric laughed and heaved Bianca up with him as he stood, "Well then, I'll see you two in the morning."

"I'll just be going back to sleep then, over there, farther away..." Merrill babbled to no one in particular, leaving Anders alone with Isabela.

Isabela turned to face the man, giving him a slow appraising look down and returning to his face, "You're looking alright for a man on the run mage."

"Isabela, I hardly think this is the time for –"

"What better time? We may all die tomorrow, might as well enjoy today!" Isabela trailed a lazy finger along the inside of his wrist. She liked the way he'd leaned out over the last few years, he had never been even a little out of shape but now there was a wiry tenseness to his build from the hard months moving around. Anders grabbed her wrist gently as she started to make headway up his arm.

"This isn't a good idea." He stated, running a careful touch down her jawline.

Isabela twisted her wrist free easily and pushed a cocoa colored finger against his lips, "It never is."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Three**

The Champion's Justice

Antiva City rose around them in waves as the buildings climbed and fell with the uneven rocky moorings it had been hewn out of, the smell of the sea strong in the air and the noise of civilization nearly deafening. Hawke nursed her ale, her hood up hiding her hair and her companions were similarly hidden behind nondescript travelling cloaks. Varric sat at the table behind her and Isabela leaned over the bar, speaking quietly to the barkeep. Fenris was out keeping an eye on their location from outside and Merrill had headed into the local alienage to see what news of current events they could dig up. Anders was.. she didn't know. He had muttered something as soon as they had been in sight of the city and headed in a different direction, he'd find them if he wanted to.

Hawke sighed and leaned back against the wobbly chair, propping the warm ale up on her knee and off the sticky and dirty table. The tavern was crowded as midnight approached and the closeness of so many unwashed bodies combined with the stink of bad ale and worse food was making her nauseous. Varric had engaged a number of the locals in lively banter while juggling off all things, she hadn't known he could juggle and Isabela had ducked into a darkened corner with a tall lanky man covered in tattoos. The dwarf caught her eye and made a slight gesture towards the door, signaling that Hawke should exit.

She tossed a few coppers on the table for the serving wench who appeared to swoop them up practically by magic and slid out of the open door unnoticed by the crowd listening to Varric. The smell of sea rot and cool night air smashed into her as the wind picked up, driving the noise from behind her away and she turned into the wind and made her way down the broken down cobbles of the street. She hadn't seen Fenris when she had emerged but she was sure he had seen her and would catch up.

A few blocks down she ducked into a dark alley and shook her hands out, chasing away the numbness from the wind and readying herself against the ever present dangers of a city at night. She felt more than saw the shadow moving down on her and began to gather in her will.

"Be at peace, it is only I," Fenris stood from his crouch a few feet in front of her and she released her gathered power slowly, letting it tease out into the air. She closed the steps between them and leaned her forehead against his chin briefly, enjoying his closeness. Even after all their years as friends and recently again as lovers he wasn't comfortable with much physical contact but he was always near her, just short of touching, a ghosting along her senses.

"Word is out here too, I don't know if we can outrun Sebastian," She murmured quietly into the close air.

"What we cannot outrun we must fight."

"I know," Hawke sighed. She did know, she just didn't have to like it.

"Come, I have found somewhere to shelter us for the night. The others will meet us there later." He turned away and led her back to the dark street beyond.

"I wondered what was keeping you from catching up," Hawke couldn't help the teasing tone she slipped into her words.

Fenris frowned at her briefly but a sparkle lit his eyes as he moved her gently down several streets to another alley, always keeping to the shadows, pulling her close to him as they moved from one covered position to the next. Finally he lead them across a rundown courtyard to a boarded up stone building snug against the stone it had been cut from. He ignored the blocked doorway and drifted towards the far side, where he motioned to a window placed halfway between what must be the first and second floors.

Hawke nodded her understanding and he laced his fingers together. Her slipper covered foot looking odd as he vaulted her to the window, she caught the ledge easily, barely having to pull herself up with as far as he'd pushed her, and turned to help him only to see his hands appear on the ledge beside her.

They slipped silently into the house and she discovered that the living quarters also pushed back into the cliff itself, making any light they might create down here impossible to see by a passerby. After they had put a few closed doors between them and the outside world she began to lay careful wards of warning and containment into the floor and walls. As always, Fenris found something else to do while she was working magic and she heard the sounds of him clearing some of the clutter away and setting up for the night.

She released her will slowly into the holding pattern of magic and felt it move from her mind to the wards she had set, the magic setting with barely a snap. As she laid a hand on the dirty wall that now pulsed with her magic she felt Fenris' arm wrap around her and she leaned into him, grateful for the time alone.

Turning in his light hold she returned his embrace, breathing in the clean smell of him. There was the faintest brush of his lips on hers, an invitation, a question, and she smiled her answer, her hands moving from around his waist to lacing around his neck.

"We have a few hours before anyone else arrives," she breathed softly into the still air.

"I am aware of this," his startlingly green eyes captured hers, a familiar heat rising in them.

"We shouldn't waste them then," Hawke let her lips slide against his again, a deeper kiss, and pulled him towards the neat bedrolls he had laid out.


	9. Chapter 9

Hawke leaned back into Fenris, letting him take her weight as they both sat on the floor, listening to the news their friends had gathered. Well, that _her_ friends had gathered, as when Merrill and Anders chimed in she could feel the tightening of the elf's muscles behind her. The news wasn't good, the Chantry's armies had arrived in Starkhaven from Orlais to meet with Sebastian's and were pledged to be in Kirkwall by the end of the week. The reward for her own skin, attached or not, was just sort of ridiculous making Antiva a very dangerous city to be in.

"Our options are rather limited Hawke. We can either take ship to Ferelden which is the closest place we'll be even somewhat safe or try to make it through Nevarre to the Anderfels. Either way there's no safe route," Varric told her, "Unless you fancy following the Qun."

"I don't really think I'd fit in there," Isabela grinned at the dwarf.

"We could always move through the Imperium," Anders added, glaring at Fenris.

"The Dalish might be willing to shelter us some too, if we promised to stay out of the way," Merrill piped in.

Hawke remained silent, her eyes clouded as she listened to her friends, her thoughts obviously elsewhere. As the conversation moved on it was obvious that there were no more useful bits of information and only the banter that evolved between any group of tense individuals before battle. She closed her eyes, drowning them out briefly, considering her options.

"We need to go back to Kirkwall." She cut in. The silence answering that was staggering.

"Have you lost your mind Hawke? Kirkwall is the _last_ place we should be right now."Varric stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"Nothing good is going to come out of a hopeless battle to save the city. You already warned everyone to leave. We should be concentrating our efforts –" She cut off Anders with a short shake of her head.

"A hopeless battle that _you_ started, _mage_, " Fenris snarled loudly right by her ear.

"We can't just abandon the innocent people in Kirkwall and even if you ignore the thousands that will die when Sebastian rips that city apart we need to pick up the trail of that relic from the Deep Roads that caused all of this mess and that begins in Kirkwall." Hawke stood, shaking her hair out. She needed a trim, no time for that now. She grimly paced to the wall, examining the shifting lines of magic that were only visible to other mages.

"The forces marching on Kirkwall aren't limited to what the city can hold, like the Templars were Hawke. Sebastian is bringing all but the bare guard from Starkhaven and he was joined by the Divine's armies. We're talking thousands if not tens of thousands of religious fanatics ready to die and trained to fight, both a regular army _and_ a group of apostates."

"Then we'll just have to convince them to turn around," Hawke said to the wall. The stunned silence of her companions rang loudly in her ears and she resisted the urge to smile, they were rarely at a loss for words. After the moment had passed they all burst out in a confused garble of sound that she couldn't make out, her mind playing ahead in the game already.

"Oh yes, the last rendezvous with the Prince went _so_ well. I'm sure we'd all love to have a taste of Sebastian's _hospitality_." Isabela strode forward and grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her around quickly but gently. "Don't. Don't even think about it. I- We almost lost you. " Isabela caught her gaze and held it, the pirate's hands biting gently but firmly into either shoulder. She returned the brown eyed gaze steadily and lowered her friend's hands slowly.

"I'm going back. I could use your help but I'm going either way. If I can't get Sebastian to listen to me and take his army home I'll take him out and as many of his men as I can," Hawke rushed the words out, not believing she had finally said them.

The room exploded into motion, her friends everywhere with loud movements, all proclaiming that they were not going to allow this to happen. She closed her eyes, tuning them all out and reached further inside to the part of her that refused to cave, to bend, to surrender, no matter how overwhelming the odds were. No matter how hopeless the battle. The part that _survived._

Her magic ripped forth from her, knocking her friends to the ground and brushing up against the wards that kept intruders out and sound and light in, causing them to shiver. Her power gathered around her, lifting her fears and ruffling her hair in her own private breeze. In the stunned silence that descended on the room she cupped her hand gently around Fenris' face, grazing his cheek with her thumb.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I have to do this though." Hawke whispered into his ear, tears running down her face. Her lover was muttering something, trying to shake off the stunning effects of her spell. As he tried to raise his hand to her she bolted, running through the empty house and slamming the wards shut behind her, buying the precious minutes it would take Anders and Merrill to dismantle them.

Hawke plunged herself into the pungent Antivan night, fleeing from everything she loved to save them for a few more precious weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

Hawke crouched comfortably in an outcropping of rock along the Wounded Coast. Her feet, now booted, dug into the familiar rock where she had spent countless hours before while waiting for her prey or catching a few precious moments of solitude. It was one of the few places she'd never brought anyone else to before, the ledge being far too small for more than one person.

Her eyes narrowed, watching the Chantry scout move quietly through the fading afternoon sunlight. Dusk was coming swiftly as it always did close to the sea. The tall man moved forward nearly silently, staying close to the ill-defined path but well concealed, his eyes looking for signs of any resistance to report back to the army only a few days behind him.

She mouthed words silently into the breeze, steadying herself for what she was about to do, the life she was about to take. Hawke had discovered long ago that stalking a man and killing him was far different than reacting to someone trying to kill you, and it required a cooler perspective. The air dropped a few degrees in temperature around her and the unsuspecting man fell unconscious to the ground, stunned and disoriented, as the water in his body dropped several degrees to nearly freezing suddenly. She vaulted herself down from her ledge and walked slowly to the man who was struggling on the ground. She released the last of her magic and watched as the power flooded from her hand into his mind and he stiffened then seized violently, dying a silent and efficient death.

Hawke carelessly kicked the corpse farther into the brush, already dismissing the act from her mind as necessary. She mechanically went through the motions of stripping him of anything useful, looking carefully for any notes he might have taken but found none.

"Bastard probably committed everything to memory. Damn people who are good at their jobs," She muttered under her breath.

"Talking to yourself again?"

Hawke jumped and whirled, blinding white light tinged with red springing from her hands, wrapping up her staff, "How did you find me?"

Anders shrugged and stepped off the path walking towards her, "I am a wizard, after all."

Hawke's glare stopped him in his tracks.

"Easy there Hawke. I'm alone. The others were all too glad to see me go."

She stared at him, holding him away with her gaze alone for almost a minute before dropping her eyes, "What do you want."

"I just want to talk to you."

"Let's talk about how you found me then."

Anders turned from her, obviously uncomfortable and her suspicious grew. Eyes narrowing she plunged forward and grabbed the front of his robes, "Where is it?" she hissed. His hand darted for one of the many concealed pockets in his robe and she beat him to it, drawing out a plain wooden disk with a small red gem that pulsed happily at her.

"You made a tracking amulet? For me? Do you know what would happen if this fell… You are unbelievable!"

"I wouldn't have let anything happen to it!"

"You wouldn't let.. Are you truly this dense?" Hawke released the front of his robe she still held with one hand and pushed him away from her. She dropped the offending disk to the ground and smashed it with her boot heel.

She stormed off down the path, hoping there wasn't more scouts but too angry to care. The comforting smells of the coast she had grown so accustomed to rose around her and the waves crashed merrily into the rocky shoreline below. The new leather of her boots creaked slightly, she'd lucked into a clan of Dalish who had boots that would fit her. Hawke hated to admit it but she felt more like herself back in clothing that was suited to fighting than in the simple clothes of a normal, gentle person. Her padded robes made the cool day nearly unbearably warm but would protect her far better than the thin linen shirt she'd been wearing before.

Footsteps followed behind her, hurrying to catch up. She was torn between pushing him off of the cliff they walked on or ignoring him. Even as she pushed on down the path part of her attention was diverted to scanning her surroundings, making sure no ambushes had been laid. The footsteps were closer now, nearly caught up to her. At the last possible instant, just as she felt his hand start to brush her arm she whirled, planting the tip of her staff square on his chest.

"Hawke, -" He began, catching her gaze.

"No. Anders, no! You do not belong here. You did this. All of the death that is about to happen is yours." Hawke emphasized her words with a sharp slashing motion with her free left hand, her eyes blazing in anger.

"Hawke. This is suicide. You don't need to die for –"

"You can _not_ be preaching to me about being willing to die for something. You were willing to die for your _revolution_," She twisted the word into a curse, "I'm willing to die for that," She jabbed her finger at the outline of Kirkwall, "For the people there. For the people you set up to die for your cause!"

"If you are so angry with me, why did you let me live?" Anders asked quietly.

"Because..!" Hawke trailed off, surprised he had asked, "Because.."

"You don't know?" He lifted his hand and gently pushed the staff pressing into him away.

"It isn't that simple," She sighed, rolling her turquoise eyes, and turned away from him, "Go Anders, you have no place here anymore."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, you're going to start asking now that you can't track me like the Circle tracks their mages?" She threw the accusation at him. Hawke could feel him flinch behind her and it gave her a nasty sense of satisfaction.

"Hawke, please, I'm sorry for that."

"Save your sorrow Anders. You're going to need it. Now leave."

"I won't."

Hawke ground her teeth, searching for patience that was fast eluding her. She whirled on him again, hair swinging out around her and planted her staff in the ground, her rage making the air vibrate and shimmer around her.

"You're really going _to_ Sebastian? You realize that's suicide."

Hawke shrugged, a helpless gesture, "Or perhaps I like to hope against hope that my friends will see reason, regardless of what their past says of them."

The silence between them stretched out uncomfortably and Anders shifted as he absorbed what she had said.

"How do you even plan on getting to him, he's surrounded by an _army_, not just palace guards and nobles.

Another shrug, she wasn't sure what he expected her to say. They both knew that she was capable of getting to Sebastian even if it would take time.

"I can't have you tagging along Anders, you're a liability. Besides, don't you have a revolution you're supposed to be leading?" Hawke retorted. She swung her staff up onto her shoulder and began stalking down the path again, heading inland instead of towards the city.

The blessed silence of not being followed lasted for nearly a whole breath before his quiet voice reached her, "I sent word to Sebastian that I'll turn myself over in exchange for him withdrawing his troops."

Hawke stopped mid-step.

She blinked slowly into the fading afternoon light that was suddenly too bright, the echoes of the birds too loud.

Her hand flexed and released around her staff.

Hawke barely turned her head over her shoulder, catching just the faintest trace of Anders, backed by the setting sun, in the corner of her eye.

"You. Did. What?" She whispered the words out through clenched teeth.

"You hardly have a monopoly on the foolish heroic acts of sacrifice sweetheart," The sarcasm dripped off his tone.

Hawke leapt, the force of her anger crossing the distance to land her squarely onto his chest, her momentum knocking him to the ground. Her legs wrapped around his torso locking him down and she let her staff fall with a loud clatter as she swung. Blood flew from the first blow across his face to patter soundlessly to the ground. By the second her knuckles were smarting from catching against his teeth. By the third the red haze of rage had begun to fade, enough to make her stop hitting him. She settled instead for digging her hands into his robes and lifting him as much as her weight on his chest allowed.

"You are throwing your life away. He will not stop once he has you." She hissed at him, her voice throaty under the stress.

"What does that matter to you?" Anders coughed up blood and tried to look at her through his rapidly swelling eye.

"It is a meaningless gesture to make yourself feel better. I spared your life you selfish _bastard_. I set you free when you deserved to burn. You owe me more than to throw it away like this!" Hawke shook him for emphasis and then rapidly dropped him, letting his head smack against the hard packed ground. She pushed herself to her knees and stepped off of him, picking up her staff.

She heard a few muttered words and looked up just in time to see the white healing light fade from him, only the drops of blood on his robe evidence to what had just happened. He'd always been so much better at healing than her.

"Come on, then," She spit the words out at him and his head jerked up, surprised.

"Where are you—we going?"

"My camp is a solid hour's hike from here and it's getting late. If we're going to make it before dark we need to move and it's blasted difficult enough to find when there's light." Hawke started off again, this time not stopping. Behind her she heard the hurried sound of Anders' footsteps.


	11. Chapter 11

Hawke tossed a few twigs on the fire, more for something to do than any real need. The happy little blaze caught them quickly and bright orange flames flickered down their lengths. Anders studied her from across the light and she kept trying to keep from making eye contact, his gaze was unnerving her. She swept an impatient hand through her hair letting her fingers catch in the knots that had formed and cursed softly.

"Something wrong?" Anders' voice caused her to look up and he caught her eyes.

"No, nothing. Just haven't had time to find a comb." She dropped her hand from her hair, giving up on the effort.

Anders stood and walked around the fire, she resisted the urge to tell him to get lost. He sat down beside her and joined her looking into the flames.

"You never did tell me why you spared me that day," he said softly.

Hawke ignored him and broke another small stick into bits and tossed them into the flames.

"Tell me why?" There was a note to his voice, a pleading, that wrenched on part of her that she thought she had written off.

"Does it matter? It's done," Hawke muttered.

"It does. To me," He responded softly.

Hawke took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. She still wasn't entirely sure why she had stayed her hand that day. "You were my friend," was all she finally said.

"Past tense?" The hurt in his tone was obvious.

"I—I don't know, Anders. I don't know. I tell myself that it wasn't you. That it was Justice. That there's been less and less of you and more of that spirit as time goes by. I hope I'm not lying to myself and you weren't always this way, but I wonder. I doubt."

It was his turn to be silent.

"Even though… no. I know change needed to happen. I'm not blind. I know that the way the Circle was wasn't right. But I also know that the Imperium isn't right. Nor is the Qun. Nor the Maker, " Hawke took a deep breath, blew it out, let the weariness she felt in her soul slip through into her words for a change, "I just feel like we should have the right to mess up and have the chance to redeem ourselves without it being forced on us. We should be able to choose to do the right thing." She turned to look at him.

"Most wouldn't choose the right thing Hawke, they'd choose the easy thing, or the safe thing, almost never the right thing. It's what makes you better than everyone else." Anders turned his gaze from her face.

"Better? Me? All I've ever try to do is to _survive._ All of this other shit just gets in the way of it." She turned her face back to the fire, embarrassed.

Anders laughed, a soft chuckle of amusement. She felt her shoulders stiffen slightly but before she could bristle at his laughter a soft touch started in her hair as he carefully worked on some of the knots. Hawke let her shoulder droop a bit, relaxing. He said nothing as he worked one strand free of knots and moved to the next, infinitely careful, a healer's touch. She felt the slight flickers of magic fall off his fingers, calming her, and she let it knowing he probably didn't even realize he was doing it.

This was the friend she remembered. The one that had made her laugh until her sides hurt during long nights with Varric and Isabela in the Hanged Man. The one who had talked to her about Bethany during the slow evenings in his clinics. The one who had assured her that her brother was alive and well in the Grey Wardens before word ever reached her.

Hawke felt tears forming in her eyes and she blinked them away before they could fall. The time for those regrets was gone in the horrible bloody red light of the destroyed chantry. Lost in her thoughts she let herself relax muscle by muscle as the soft tingles of power danced down her neck. Her eyes drooped shut and time suspended as he finished untangling her hair. She awoke to his hands gently kneading her shoulders and both of his legs wrapped around her and he felt her tenseness under his touch.

"Hawke.. don't."

"Don't what." She sounded snappish even to herself.

"I'm just trying to get you to relax a little."

"Yes, relaxing is exactly what we should be doing with an army about to arrive and scouts all over the bloody coast looking for us." She stood abruptly, pacing away from him. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."

She stormed down the passage from the large cave far back into the cliffs of the Coast. The passage wound and twisted it's way over boulders and she skirted only a few of them before stopping in a relatively flat area and began to clear some of the debris from the ground. She heard his footsteps behind her and ignored him.

Ignored him until his strong hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her up. He turned her to face him and pulled her in fast, faster than she could react and she was too confused, her magic sparking from her hands but not forming. His lips pressed to hers with bruising intensity and she muffled a startled cry as his hands moved from her shoulders, down her back, pushing her body into his.

She broke away with a curse, her eyes blazing. Anders held his hands up partway in a gesture of surrender. Hawke glared at him, her limbs tingling and a pulsing warmth from his magic where his hands had been spreading out along her midsection.

"I just—I just wanted to know." He began carefully.

"Know what?" She spit the words at him angrily.

"If that had been the reason." He finished quietly.

Hawke stared at him in disbelief, she shook her head out ruefully.

"Was there ever a time when-?"

"Anders…" Hawke began, changed her mind, and then continued, "I'm sorry. It's always been Fenris. Don't confuse a good friendship with something else."

Anders slumped his shoulders, she almost went to him and stopped herself, dropping the hand that she had begun to reach for him with to her side. "Get some rest Anders," She said, as gently as possible. She watched him head back to their camp, heard the sounds of him settling himself. She turned her gaze towards the twisting path back towards the coast and settled in.

It was only a matter of moments before the noise coming from their camp stopped. Hawke strained her ears, listening carefully and still heard nothing. She rose silently from her position in the sandy dirt and picked her way carefully back towards the fire, full night having just settled over the coast.

Anders was soundly asleep when she arrived and she was careful not to wake him. She settled for placing a few careful traps in the only entrance to their cave, both to keep intruders out and Anders in, and dug through her gear for something to eat.

Hawke studied Anders' sleeping form. He almost seemed peaceful, the lines of worry and a hard life seemed softer. The uneven light from the fire kissed over the planes of his face and lightened his stubble to a golden glow around his chin and jaw. There might have been a time when she could have felt differently about him but she knew that her heart was being carried around by a frantically worried elf probably looking for her as she sat. She tossed that uncomfortable thought away, still ashamed of what she had done.

Tomorrow was a big day, she had managed to get the location of Anders' meeting from him as they made their way here, playing his overwhelming guilt shamelessly. She couldn't allow him to throw his life away in a fruitless gesture any more than she could have buried the dagger In his back that horrible day in Kirkwall. They could fight about a plan tomorrow.

She wasn't a foolish woman. She knew that the chances of Sebastian listening to reason were almost negligible but she had to try. She had to give him the chance of redemption. Hawke had never been devout and she and Sebastian had argued for hours because while she believed in the Maker she didn't believe that he cared about what happened down here anymore than she cared about a bee, only taking note when it became a nuisance.

And Anders.. Anders had his point but this madness was the wrong way to bring about change. Change in his measure meant another Imperium. There had to be balance. Man, mage or not, could not be trusted to run without a counterpoint.

And while the Chantry and Sebastian warred against the renegade mages innocents were mowed down in their path. Horrible atrocities were being committed on both sides and the hands that dealt them out felt fully justified in their actions.

Hawke traced patterns in the dirt floor, half formed runes with no power and mindless doodles. She missed Fenris leaning over her, commenting seriously on whatever she was drawing with her finger. She missed Aveline and Isabela's fights. She missed Varic trying to talk some caution into Merrill. She even missed Sebastian, with his unnerving faith.

Most of all though she missed her brother, lost to the wardens. She missed her baby sister, dead to the darkspawn, and she missed her mother, dead to a madman. Not even in Fenris' arms had she found peace with her failure to protect them. All of her accomplishments were worth less than the dirt she sat on in light of those glaring failures.

She wouldn't fail to protect those she loved again.

She couldn't.


	12. Chapter 12

Hawke and Anders crouched uncomfortably under the morning sun in a tree gone splendid with early fall colors. The thick moving leaves that still clung to the tree provided them with ample coverage and a decent view of the clearing where Anders was supposed to be patiently awaiting his own capture. Anders had done nothing but fight her on this plan but somewhere within the fighting and screaming and guilt evoking comments she had won and so they waited, their trap laid.

The sun rose past to its highest point and Hawke suppressed her impatience. Her back was aching and her limbs had repeatedly gone numb, having to be carefully woken up by the slow process of tightening and releasing the individual muscles. Finally, just as the sun started down its afternoon path the slight sound of metal and cloth approached them from the northwest and she quickly darted out her hand to grab Anders' wrist to prevent him from doing something stupid.

The templars marched in a neat double line, most of them had their visors down to shield them from the bright sun. A few familiar seeming faces appeared in the lines of men and women making their way into the packed down dirt near the coast that Anders had chosen for his meeting point. Hawke silently watched them, keeping a firm grip on the man beside her.

After counting an even fifty entering the clearing she had to suppress the urge to swear. The men moving below her certainly were. One of them in the uniform of the Knight Captain knelt to the ground, examining the sloppy and obvious warding that Anders had left for them. A bright burst of magic recoiled from the Templar's touch and the ward unraveled. The kneeling knight lifted his visor and Hawke let an angry hiss escape from her lips. It was Tous.

The leaves around her trembled again, stirred by her rage, and she felt Anders tug in surprise at the suddenly bruising grip on his arm. Her eyes narrowed and only Anders' insistent pulling at her hold kept her temper from escaping her control. Hawke tore her gaze away from the hated face beneath her and turned to face the mage crouched near her, the look of raw hatred marring her features gave the answers to the silent question his eyes asked.

Hawke closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. The raging magic that twisted to escape her control settled slowly to its usual quiet, comforting pulse. When she opened her eyes they still shone with power and she could see the slight distortion to the world that meant her magic was still too close to the surface but she forced herself to calmness.

The templars milled about uneasily below them, she could hear the creak of their armor and the muffled sound of conversation but was unable to make out most of the words. Tous made a sharp gesture to some of the men and they took off in a search pattern. Hawke watched them carefully but like most, they never thought to look up. Long minutes passed slowly as the day gave way to afternoon and the sun angled through the rocks to the west. Finally, Tous called his men to order and began issuing instructions in a ringing voice.

"Go back to camp. Tell him the maleficarum was too coward to show. We'll make camp close and see if he turns up tonight." Tous growled at the man who bowed before him. Hawke shot Anders a warning glance to stay quiet.

"Yes, sir!" The man saluted, fist over heart, and led nearly half of the men away down the rocky path.

Tous began an orderly setup of camp then and set up patrols, as the men spread out to further damage the vegetation in the area the quiet ease of evening settled upon them. Easy banter floated between the men as they each went about their duties. As the first patrol set out the men began preparing their evening meal, campfires lighting up the coming darkness and louder laughter and conversation started as the men relaxed.

Hawke nodded once sharply to Anders; that was all the warning she gave him before her will focused narrowly on the fires already burning in the camp. All of her anger and pain and humiliation of the tortures she had been dealt under the hands of the men beneath her boiled to the surface. She loosed the restraints she had placed on her rage and let the magic come.

The camp below exploded into chaos as the fires all erupted into blooming infernos. Any poor sod unlucky enough to have been near one of them disappeared in a horrifying outline of screaming agony as the flesh melted from their bones. No amount of lyrium could have protected them from the heat of her flames. The burn of her revenge. The hand of her justice.

Men began screaming and running from the camp and Hawke turned her suddenly radiant face to the skies above them. Clouds boiled and rolled at her summoning and the wind whipped itself around her, cloaking the area in the dry dust of autumn. Small shards of rock flew striking everyone below while they remained safe behind the rapidly diminishing shelter of leaves and branches.

Hawke leapt from her perch, landing easily on her feet, knees bent to absorb the impact. Her staff whirled out, the bladed end catching one man in the throat followed by a sudden blunt impact from the other side to a man's face. He staggered back, spitting teeth and blood, and Hawke extended her hand, magic writhing down her arm, hitting him squarely in the chest. His shrieks of horror cut through the chaos as she froze his armor to his body and then stopped abruptly as the cold reached his heart.

More men closed in on her, moving in quickly. She sneered her disdain at them and the ground ripped out from her, pure force resounding outwards. The men fell in waves as the earth itself threw them and her freezing arc followed directly behind it, turning men into statues. Hawke moved through them like the hand of the Death itself, coming to collect his due.

Behind her she heard the distant sounds of combat. _Anders_. She tried to force herself to turn, to help him. Her instinctive need to protect slowed her deadly advance forward. More armored figures descended, a simple flick of her staff sent fire streaming towards them, exploding outwards, flinging men like toys in all directions. She turned and moved towards the grimy outline of Anders fighting off several men himself.

"Maleficar! Surrender and you'll be shown mercy!" A familiar voice boomed through the chaos. The air around her stirred, uneasy. The ground rippled like water. The clouds above rolled together soundlessly, angry lightning strange without the thunder.

Everything stopped.

Small bits of debris that her storm had kicked up froze in place, the dust hung suspended in the air, weapons were swung but no blade moved. All noise ceased; men moved their mouths and no sound emerged; the sound of the battle cut off abruptly.

Hawke turned. She took a slow, deadly step towards Tous, the man who had held her at his mercy for days. The man who had burned her, cut her, tortured her. The man who had _reduced_ her. She took a hard look at the man who had degraded her and the rage in her boiled over and froze.

"_I will show you why mages are feared." _The words hissed out in a whisper from her lips, the voice unfamiliar. The brutality she had endured flashed through her mind, achingly detailed. Every hurt remembered, every scream relived. She felt her magic release and men fell around her, unimportant.

Hawke took another step, and her momentum began, each step pounding across the dirt and rock sending her in a flying leap at the man readying his sword. He parried her downward strike and the white flash of templar protective magic flashed as her blow was followed by fire, called down her left arm. He swung and she dodged, he advanced and she sidestepped, he feinted and she countered.

Tous caught her in a cheap backwards blow across the shoulder and she staggered back, blood welling up through the leather bringing the sharp tang of iron with it. The bloodlust in his eyes ignited as he moved in on her again and she forgo the instinct to heal and instead lit her hands with the brilliant biting white-blue of cold. The cold of a woman fixated on death.

As the templar's sword arched through the air aimed for her injured side her unprotected hand darted upwards, magic balled in it. As the blade arced into her opened hand the magic exploded outwards, cold freezing her hand, the air, the blade. Hawke lost feeling in her hand immediately and Tous' blade shattered as it impacted with her nearly frozen limb, shards of frozen metal peppering both of them. As the knight stared at her in shock, her staff spun in her free right hand and she lunged. Hawke's blade bit deep into the unprotected area just below his arm at the shoulder joint, exposed from his overextended blow.

Tous stared at her in a look of quiet disbelief, the moment hanging for what seemed like eternity before blood began to drop from his mouth. Hawke twisted the staff, feeling it cut into muscle and lung, a faraway burning ache pulsing from her left arm. He slid to the ground, her weapon stuck deep inside him and the twisting in her hand forced her to release the weapon. She watched with unconcerned eyes as the life fled from him and he fell limply onto the ground.

Behind her, the battle had ended. Anders had dispatched what had remained of the templars while she had dueled with Tous. His familiar gait was marred with the exhaustion of the short and dirty battle that she had thrown them into. Hawke knelt and twisted her weapon out of the man's body, carelessly using the fabric of his office to clean her blade.

"_**This was the man who tortured you?"**_ Anders asked her in a booming voice. She looked up, Anders was gone. The harsh, unforgiving light of Justice shone through the man who had once been her closest friend.

"Yes."

"_**Justice has been done.**_"

"This, this is not justice! This was anger, and pain, and retribution! This was _me_ beginning to feel whole again, taking back a piece of myself!" Hawke glared at him, knowing it was wasted energy, "Justice should be fair. It should be handed out by a calm, rational person not someone hell bent on revenge or a personal crusade. Justice has to look at the long term _and_ the short term of what is being done. This—" she gestured to the crumpled form of Tous behind her, "This was not that. This was Vengeance. I suggest you learn the difference."

Hawke wearily dropped the tip of her staff to rest in the dirt and left the body filled clearing. She heard the resolute steps of Justice fade to the human pace of Anders but she didn't stop. She climbed back up the path out of the clearing and onto a rocky outcropping. Below them the massacre that they had dealt had lost the glaring gory detail and she was clear of the smell of fear and blood.

Anders looked at her, saying nothing as she stared onto what they had done. Slowly, she raised her hands, staff outstretched. The magic came slowly, most of her energy spent. It built inside her until she released it down her staff, steering the magic to the carnage below.

The firestorm built up, swirling around in a horrible twisting of glowing heat. The bodies were sucked up into the inferno, small blasted bits of darkness inside of her flame. Hawke built the fire up, feeding it magic, forcing it higher, the pyre burning a beacon in the dark sky. She built it more, throwing more of her magic into it, turning it into a symbol that could be seen for miles that only a mage of enormous power could have pulled off. She sent her message to the army that camped only a few miles from where they were.

The Champion had returned.


End file.
